


Ours Is The Fire

by skymera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Crowley Being an Asshole, Gabriel Being an Unintentional Asshole, Lucifer Helps, M/M, Mentioned Cas and Benny, Nurse Castiel, Phoenix Dean, Sam Being Indecisive, more to be added as I go along because my mind is blanking out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skymera/pseuds/skymera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds out that running away from his problems never solves anything. They always come back to burn him. (Luckily Dean is an expert in all things hot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to chase a feather in the wind

**Author's Note:**

> This has been my brainchild for almost a year now, and I'm finally starting to publish it. Vibrates with excitement. Thanks to my friend Aki for looking over it for me!

 

People often complained about the smell of hospitals, but Castiel found it reassuring.

The antiseptic smell let him know that his space was clean, the filtered air relatively germ free despite the building being a housing block for illness. He revelled in the squeak of his white tennis shoes against lemon scented linoleum, hummed along with the autoclaves, and found the first squirt of foaming sanitizer coating his hands particularly gratifying. While the cancers he helped treat weren’t contagious, the symptoms that visitors brought in were very real threats to his fragile patients. The squeak, the hum, the cleanliness, it was all part of a greater effort to protect the ones he cared for, and he was glad of it. To others, it was the scent of dread and death, but to Castiel, it was safety.

It was also a notoriously good cover up for the less sparkling elements of being a nurse. 

“Oh, man. Gotcha right at the end of the day, didn’t they?” his friend, Benny, chuckled in amusement and jerked his chin toward the spill of vomit coating Castiel’s scrubs. The departing nurse wrinkled his nose a bit and nodded, taking carefully coordinated steps toward his locker to retrieve a change of clothes before heading over to the showers. 

“Unfortunately, chemo is not going so well for Brandon,” he replied with a sigh, a frown of concern darkening the corners of his lips as he struggled to get out of his ruined uniform. Benny stepped over to help him out, lifting the fabric enough that it wouldn’t smear across the poor man’s face or hair as he dragged it over his head before letting it drop to the floor in a wet heap. Castiel kicked off his tennis shoes and shimmied out of his pants while Benny returned to his locker to finish preparing for his shift.

“Room 3032, right? Yeah, that kid’s a projectile vomiter. You gotta be quick about gettin’ the bucket up there in time or else he’ll just--” Benny made a heaving noise and spread out his hands in an illustrative gesture. “Gets all over ya.” He trailed off with a good natured chuckle, hiking one leg up on the bench to tie his shoe. 

The shower kicked on then, curling steam beginning to fill the small room as Castiel rinsed out his clothes and hung them over the curtain rod to dry while he soaped himself up. That was another thing he liked--he sent up a silent blessing to whoever invented soap, making a note to look it up later for future reference.

“I was lifting the bucket to his chin just as he began, but it seems he’s not fond of dinosaurs. If I didn’t know better, I would say that he aimed,” Castiel grunted. He was pretty sure Brandon had definitely aimed, and was willing to bet his favorite sweater on it. 

The curtain rustled behind him as Benny retrieved his wet clothes, wringing them out in the sink with a raspy laugh. 

“Prob’ly my fault, now that I think about it. He wasn’t feeling too good last night, so I hung out with him ‘til he fell asleep. I guess not every kid likes Jurassic Park, eh?”

There was a pause, the water abruptly shutting off and one blue eye peering out at Benny from behind the curtain judgmentally.

“Benny, Brandon is four.”

Benny shrugged and folded the damp clothes the best he could, eyes flickering to Castiel’s freshly washed face with a teasing grin that crinkled the corners of his sleepy blue eyes.

“‘S ‘bout the age everyone becomes a man. Jurassic Park is a right of passage, come on.”

Castiel answered with a roll of his eyes before toweling off and tugging on a clean t-shirt, leaving Benny to finish up with his shoelaces. The two chatted cordially until Castiel swung his backpack over his shoulders, walking with Benny through the halls to the front desk to clock out. Two years of working together had forged an easy friendship between them, one that Benny often tried to move forward into something more. Castiel chose to remain completely oblivious despite the lingering warmth in Benny’s infectious smile.

He signed out and tugged his jacket on, blushing a bit when Benny reached up to fix his collar. Benny noticed, of course, and winked.

“Stay safe out there, baby bird,” he hummed. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel noticed him peel a sticker from the roll on the desk, one that was soon stuck to his cheek with another grin from Benny. “Text me when ya get home so I know you made it alright.”

“I always do,” Castiel grunted, ducking his head at the female nurse sneakily eyeing them over her cup of coffee before hastily making his way out. 

The sticker remained on his cheek, forgotten.

He dozed off on the bus ride across town, head knocking against the rattling window with each bump until the voice over the loudspeaker scared him awake. Bleary eyed, he stumbled off of the bus to walk the block or so from the stop to his apartment. It was chilly and misting rain, not hard enough to be considered droplets but enough to gloss over Castiel’s face and hair. He bowed his head against the onslaught, ruminating over his day and the grocery list he was going to make when he arrived home.

Pavement turned into a blur beneath his feet, rendered indistinct by the film of his thoughts until it suddenly sharpened with the scent of burning. His head jerked up in alarm, scanning the area for signs of smoke or flickering flames and finding nothing. It was faint, nearly drowned out by the smell of petrichor and wet garbage, but as he hurried toward his apartment, the stinging perfume of singed hair made his eyes water. Worry gnawed at his gut as he continued searching for the source, not exactly sure what he would find. It wasn’t entirely uncommon to find dumped bodies in his area of town.

Castiel found his answer in the entrance of an alleyway, barely concealed by a trashcan and rattling breaths like a drowned man. He looked up at Castiel with a pointed glare, and despite the obvious smoking of rain darkened hair and raw patches of skin, he opened his mouth to rasp, “The hell you looking at?”  The nurse tilted his head, chancing a quick glance down the alleyway and into the peripheral before crouching down beside the rather charred stranger. The man growled ominously, but Castiel ignored it in favor of looking over his wounds. Green eyes glittered at him brightly, reflecting the glow of the streetlamp in his otherwise dark corner.

“My name is Castiel and I am a nurse,” he stated calmly, continuing to pay no mind to the defensive grunts and grumbles as he set his bag down on the ground. “You’re injured. May I ask what happened? I should call an ambulance--”

“No!”

Castiel’s phone was knocked out of his hand in an instant, the stranger struggling to stand up despite his injuries. Castiel gently but firmly pushed him back down, putting on his best “now, now” expression that he reserved for especially cranky children--it worked, usually. The stranger glowered but stayed still long enough for Castiel to finish looking him over.

His temperature was alarmingly high, clothes tattered and burned in several places to reveal seared, freckled skin beneath them. There was no discernable pattern to the burning, at least not that he could see, and it was apparent that the man had either jumped full bodied over a pit of fire or just rolled through one. And yet, he still couldn’t spot any burning buildings close by. He chalked it up to gang violence and reached for his phone again, but was berated with another growl, so he eased his hand back into his lap and looked at the man cautiously. 

“Sir, whatever trouble you may be in, I can assure you that the hospital will give you the utmost privacy--” 

“No hospitals.” 

Again with the interruptions. The disgruntled nurse heaved out a sigh before pursing his lips and glancing over to his apartment door a few feet away. A first aid kit was just inside, sitting on top of the book case he kept near the entryway. It was risky to show the man where he lived--gang members were violent and often exploitative, or so he had heard--but it was his duty to attend to the injured, and that was what he would do.

He turned to face the man once more, absolute command in his tone as he gravelled out, “Stay right here.” He didn’t miss the eye roll he received in return, but he was gone and back before the stranger could even think about moving. Though he did try. He was scooted a good five feet deeper into the alleyway where the nurse had left him, a petulant pout surfacing when Cas found him regardless.

“I already told you, I’m _fine_.”

“Obviously.”

“Look, pal, I don’t need your help so go home and turn on your soap operas or whatever the hell it is that you do, and I can go about my business as usual.”

Castiel just looked at him flatly before getting to work.

The man growled out a frustrated sigh, opening his mouth to argue his disapproval, but they both froze when Castiel’s fingers grazed over soft down on the back of the stranger’s neck. The nurse’s mouth bobbed open and closed, brows furrowed in confusion as his fingertips felt the shafts embedded into the man’s nape, tawny red and soft and blended into strands of a similar color. Shock kept him from feeling the hands that slapped him away, but he retreated like he had been stung when the stranger hissed at him.

“I said leave me alone!”

“But sir--”

There was rage in his eyes, bellowing caustic in Castiel’s ear and making his nervous fingers drop the kit with a clatter. The nurse was frightened and confused, but the set of his jaw only hardened as he waited for the man to run out of breath. It took several minutes for the other to calm down enough for Castiel to get a word in, and though he tried to interrupt, Castiel gave a withering glare and held a hand up to stop him.

“You are hurt and in need of rest. I won’t call an ambulance, but I refuse to leave you out here on the streets to face the elements alone,” he growled, standing up to dust off his pants. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline, but he pointed out a dingy motel sign flashing neon down the street. “At least allow me to get you a room for the night. I will make sure you’re settled and then leave you alone.”

The man only pursed his lips, staring angrily at the wall beside him, so Castiel swallowed his anxiety and headed off to see if any rooms were vacant. He wasn’t sure what name to put down for the room, so he coughed out a “B. Spears” and handed over the security deposit in cash before snatching the keys and hurrying back to his charge.

With the exception of the pouring rain, there was no one left to greet him. He looked around the alley and surrounding streets and found no sign of the man or his first aid kit, and the sudden disappearance coupled with the strangeness of the feathers sent a chill shivering down his spine. He quickly darted back to his apartment and slammed the door shut before making sure all three locks were in place and sinking down on the other side, dazed. A faint buzz in his pocket drew him out of his thoughts, and he frowned, having forgotten to text Benny after his ordeal.

**Benjamin** : _You alright, Cas? Make it home safe?_

He hit the call button before realizing what he was doing, and it took Benny all of half a second to answer. A half second too long, because his nerves were still jumping and he was biting into his nails.

“Castiel? Hang on-- _Alisha, get that outta your mouth!_ \--Sorry. Didja get home?” Benny’s honeyed drawl came over the speaker like a lifeline to the real world, and Cas pushed down the lump in his throat to croak out a reply.

“Yes, Benny. Yes I did.”

There was a pause, more shuffling as he heard Benny switch off with another nurse and exit the room he was in. The door clicked shut and Benny came back on the line, keeping his voice low.

“Is somethin’ wrong? You sound spooked.”

“Someone followed me home,” Castiel lied, pushing himself off of the floor to dump his backpack on the kitchen table. Benny would probably call him crazy if he knew all the details. He sank into a chair and rubbed a hand over his face, trembling fingers pressing tight to his lips before he blew out a breath. “I’m safe, but I just...needed to hear your voice.”

He realized how that sounded a second too late, could almost hear the shy chuckle and the accompanying broad grin on Benny’s face, but it was true. Benny’s voice was different when he replied, tender and soothing like he was talking to a frightened child--and Castiel felt as much. He scowled at himself for the needless call and listened to Benny talking to Meg about taking his lunch early that evening.

“Listen, Cas, I’ll hop on over in just a bit to scope things out for you. Think you can stay put ‘til then?”

“That’s really not necessary, Benny. Please don’t sacrifice your lunch hour for me. I’m fine. Really.” He cleared his throat and added, “Talking to you helped a lot. I’ll, um, contact the authorities and see if they can patrol around the area for the night.”

“You sure?” There was disappointment in his tone, and Castiel winced.

“Yes, I’m sure. I would just like to soak and go to bed. Thank you for the concern.”

They finished up with a few more reassurances from Castiel and only a bit of nagging from Benny, who promised to drop by after his shift the next day. Castiel hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. The call had distracted him enough to stop shaking, and he gave a forlorn glance at his coffee machine before shaking his head and heading up to his room to relax and prepare for bed.

The sound of sirens interrupted his dozing in the warm, bubble filled bath, and he eventually crawled under the sheets with weary abandon and a firm resolve to pretend the previous night had never happened. He shoved a pillow over his head and ignored the prickling between his shoulder blades that made him feel like he was being watched.

 

He was.


	2. to end or just begin

The tiny golden star sticker was stuck to his sink.

  
He eyed it for a moment before pulling it off and sticking it on the inside of his wallet, next to his ID and the credit card he rarely used. He never felt anything more than friendliness toward his coworker, but Benny’s concern the night before had warmed his insides and he thought it might be nice to give in for once. Benny had been a constant since he had started at the hospital, full of warmth and life and promise. It was only Castiel’s fear of vulnerability that kept him from taking the leap. He wasn’t especially attracted to Benny but he did grow tired of the loneliness, and he wondered if he could love him with time. The sticker was silly and small, an offhand gesture meant to tease his stoicism, but Castiel was reluctant to throw it away. So into his wallet it went, though he tried not to read too much into his desire to keep it.

  
The morning was peaceful. He breathed in the scent of coffee brewing in the special machine his older brother had sent him for his birthday, some extravagant one cup something-or-another that had to be explained to him over the phone (the instructions were still taped to the cabinet above). The rain had settled itself out over the night, and now the sun was streaming in past his curtains and he was convinced that the cranky injured man with the feathers was all just a dream. He’d have to ask for an extra day off to rest if that was really the state of his conscious mind. Even if his first aid kit was still missing and still a reminder that it was not, in fact, a hallucination or some kind of out of body experience, Castiel would allow himself that delusion.

  
He ate breakfast and dressed with the languid efficiency that days off afforded before packing up his things and getting ready to set out. His backpack was full of hats that he had knitted himself, spiked monsters and dinosaurs and teddy bears peppered in with the occasional flowered cap or multicolored mohawk. He gave them out to whoever wanted them, even taking requests so that his patients were happier with what they received. It made them feel better and he had nothing much to do on his off time, so he wrote down what they asked for in a little notebook and checked them off as he went.

  
The bus ride was bumpy as usual, but he made it to the hospital and walked inside to greet Meg at the front desk.

  
“Back so soon, sunshine?” she purred, glancing down the hall to where Benny had just turned the corner. Her smirk widened into a grin as Castiel began to reply, only to stutter his words as Benny caught his eye from afar. “Don’t worry, precious, I won’t mess with you today. Benny told me what happened. Are you okay?”

  
Castiel’s gaze slid away from Benny’s as he neared, gripping the straps of his backpack and clearing his throat. “Yes, I’m alright. I think that I may have been overthinking the situation.”

  
She pursed her lips and shook her head, taking a sip from her mug. He swore it was always attached to some way--Meg had the miraculous talent of looking up patients with one hand and keeping a death grip on her caffeine with the other. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could balance it on her head by now.

  
“I’ll be glad when you get out of that place.”

  
“But I like my apartment,” he protested quietly, sighing. The argument came up often with his coworkers, and they never understood why he wanted to keep it. She clucked her tongue, looking up with an all too innocent expression and the familiar curl of her dimpled smile.

  
“You could always move in with Benny.”

  
“I do have an extra room,” came the familiar rasp from behind him, and Castiel flushed as a heavy arm rested on his shoulder. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, but he looked over at Benny with flat resistance despite the heat in his face and ears.

  
“That won’t be necessary. I’m fine, as you can see.”

  
Benny laughed and clutched at his chest like he had been wounded, and Meg snickered as Castiel slid out from under Benny’s arm and waved them off. He ignored his embarrassment and shuffled into the playroom where he was immediately bombarded by small hands grasping at his legs and pulling at his backpack. He fell to his knees and hugged every one of them, laughter pealing off the whitewashed walls.

*

Castiel left the hospital with a smile and ten little faces peering out the window to wave goodbye. He’d completely forgotten to make a grocery list, so the stop was short and only for the bare necessities that he could remember. He spent a chilly fifteen minutes at the bus stop, fingers numb from holding the cold milk and his breath puffing out in whorls as he waited with a few other people for the squeaking brakes and crowded seats.

  
The day passed as any other, and the feathered man was all but forgotten until Castiel spotted him sitting on the crumbling stairs in front of his apartment. He panicked, attempting to duck into the same alleyway the man had hidden in, but it was too late.

  
“Hey!” the man called, immediately standing when he saw Castiel. He waved the first aid kit above his head and looked a little less gruff than the evening before with a tentative, lopsided smile curving across his lips. Castiel gripped the milk jug tighter against his chest and took a few cautious steps forward, the straps of his backpack digging uncomfortably into his shoulders. If only he could brush past the stranger and into the red painted door behind him, then he would be safe.

  
“I brought your kit back,” the man grunted, holding it out in front of him. Castiel paused just before it, his body sagging even more with the realization that the stranger’s shoulders were just as wide as his stoop.

  
There was no getting past that, at least not comfortably.

  
He hesitantly reached out, plucking the kit from the man’s fingers and cradling it in with the milk. Which then decided to drop from his arms. The resounding smack of the jug had both men scrambling to pick it up. Castiel’s bulky backpack slid down over his head, and he huffed and fumbled to push it back while the stranger dusted off the jug of milk.

  
“Need some help? You look like you’ve got your hands full.”

  
Castiel’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he managed to keep his voice even while he answered, “No thank you. I think I can manage…?” He trailed off, raising a brow at the other man until it finally dawned on the stranger to offer his name. Castiel had just been calling him “that man” in his head, but he would have liked a name for the face.

  
Not that he was entirely certain it would be a real name. Any name would do, however. He didn’t plan on maintaining the acquaintance for long.

  
“Dean,” the man answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m Dean, sorry.” His eyes shifted to glance around them, and Castiel didn’t miss the nervous suspicion behind his gaze. He swallowed, remembering the potential danger Dean’s presence offered, and moved to slide past him on the stairwell. He sucked in his belly as far as it would go, grimacing as his backpack caught on one of the rails. Dean reached out and unhooked it, catching the nurse when he stumbled on the next step.

  
“Well, Dean,” Castiel grunted, attempting to ignore the gentle hand at his waist and pushing the first aid kit under his arm before holding out his free hand for the milk. The name was oddly simple for such a mysterious person, but he liked it well enough. It fit him. “Thank you for returning my kit. I hope you’re much better today?” The burns and soot from the night before were gone, replaced by a stubbled chin and a thick flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. He smelled like wood smoke and shaving cream, sharp and clean and Castiel was far too close to him to be noticing such things. Unease gnawed at the nurse’s spine, and he took another step higher to give them both more space on the cramped stoop. Dean glanced down at his hands, the low chuckle not reaching his eyes as he handed the milk off to Castiel and shoved them into his pockets.

  
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks again for, uh, trying to help me. Cas...Cas-something, was it?” He looked as embarrassed as Castiel felt, and something told him that it was not a common look for the man.

  
“Castiel.”

  
“Yeah, that. Castiel.”

*

Somehow Dean ended up at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface as he looked around the small apartment. Castiel bustled around the kitchen, warming up some leftover beef stew on the tiny stove top and cursing his coffee machine for only making a cup at a time. The invitation had tumbled out of his mouth against his will just to break the awkward silence that fell between Dean rumbling out his name and Castiel remembering that his keys were in his backpack, inaccessible as could be with his hands tied up in bags and milk and Dean standing right there, perfectly capable of helping.

  
Dean had dutifully handled the bags while he had reached for the key, following him inside while Castiel handled mild panic with a stony face. The drumming was getting on his nerves, he wasn’t sure if Columbian roast or Donut Shop would be better, and the soup was taking entirely too long to bubble into heated comfort. He glanced occasionally at the smooth arms resting atop his table, trying to reason with himself about how the shiny, raw skin could have healed so quickly. Dean’s face, too, was unmarred, freckled and tanned and curiously watching him as he dumped creamer into his coffee.

  
And then there were the feathers, again only subtly noticeable under the collar of grey flannel and dirty blonde hair if one knew where to look. They were more golden than red now, and Dean caught his gaze with one of challenge and warning.

  
He looked away.

  
Dinner was quiet and awkward, peppered by Dean’s polite questions about his knitting and occupation. He’d noticed the needles and yarn piled neatly next to the worn, oversized chair in the corner, among other things. Castiel answered with the least amount of words possible, afraid of giving up too much information and putting himself at risk of--something. He wasn’t sure anymore about his previous assumptions, of Dean being some kind of thug that happened to have a bad night in the dusky suburbs of Chicago. There were so many questions dammed beneath his tongue that he was too wary to ask, and he settled for sly glances that soon turned into all out staring.

  
Dean pretended not to notice, at first. He blew on the soup like it would burn him and sipped and sipped until his spoon clattered against the ceramic. His stomach rumbled for more, but he had already stayed for too long. He wiped his mouth with a paper towel and looked up into blue with an attempt at a teasing smile, knowing damn well what would happen if he didn’t just thank Castiel for the meal and haul ass out of town like he was supposed to.

  
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m either really pretty or I’ve got something on my face. Which is it?” he asked against better judgement, leaning his elbows on the coffee ring stained tabletop. Castiel had stopped eating a while ago, not even bothering to sneak glances or hide the perturbed crease of his brow. His lips were pursed and Dean could almost hear the cogs turning under the windswept tufts of black hair. The silence was long and eventually unsettling, and Dean took it as his cue to leave. He stood up slowly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he glanced back at the door and opened his mouth to give the customary, noncommittal “hey, thanks. See you around?” but Castiel cut him off.

  
“You’re not...normal,” the nurse stated quietly. The last word ended on a growl that sounded more disbelieving than accusatory, and Dean tried to play it off as a joke despite the flutter of tension that squeezed around his lungs.

  
“That’s the worst pick up line I’ve ever heard, Castiel,” he laughed. Castiel’s gaze was still steady, still questioning, and the vice around his lungs tightened. He laughed again to hide the discomfort, but quickly grew sober under the seriousness of the nurse’s expression. They scrutinized each other for several long breaths, neither willing to explain further before Dean eventually sighed and opened his mouth to respond--only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

  
“Uh. You expecting someone?”

  
“Not really. Oh, wait,” Castiel murmured, remembering Benny’s promise to stop by after work. He damned the nervous jitter of his hands as he dabbed at his mouth and slid out of his chair, heading over to the window to peek outside. Benny was stomping his feet against the cold, hands tucked deep into his pockets. He looked up with lips parted in surprise when the door opened, only to grin when his coworker nodded in greeting.  

  
“Hey, bud. You left this at the hos-- Oh, you’ve got company.”

  
Castiel shifted a little to prevent Benny from looking over his shoulder, self consciously nudging the door to hide Dean’s presence.

  
“S’Alright. I was just leaving,” Dean quickly explained, giving a wave before pushing his chair in.

  
“We weren’t finished with our conversation, Dean,” Castiel chided, taking the small blue notebook from Benny. Dean paused and looked over at the nurse incredulously, but Castiel paid him no mind. “Thank you, Benny. Another time?”

  
Benny glanced from Castiel to Dean, obviously confused.

  
“Sure thing. Wanna have coffee tomorrow since we’re both off?”

  
They chatted amicably while Dean muttered ‘what have I gotten myself into’ under his breath, turning his back on the clearly smitten Benny and his oblivious host. He hadn’t expected the wary nurse to keep him there. He could hear his heart thundering from across the room the entire time he had been there, and it only jumped higher with Benny’s presence. Maybe not so oblivious after all, but if he was going to be forced to watch their tender little conversation, he was helping himself to another bowl of soup.

  
Dean was halfway through his second helping when Castiel shut the door and sat down again. He raised a brow at the way Dean was wolfing down the stew like he could have eaten all of it before Cas had returned, and Dean only shrugged. The more he stuffed in his mouth, the less he had to talk.

  
Castiel took a moment to gather his thoughts. He knew he was right--Dean had gotten quiet and almost resigned before Benny had knocked, like his strangeness was something he’d had to explain a hundred times over already and knew the outcome would be unpleasant. He didn’t even know where to begin, because “are you human?” sounded almost as rude as “what are you?”

  
“Dean, I--”

  
Another knock, and Castiel became annoyed. He had never had so many visitors in one day, and he motioned for Dean to wait a moment as he trudged over to open the door yet again.

  
A low, accented voice rasped out a “ _hello, darling_ ,” before many things happened at once.

  
Castiel was yanked backward with a cry as an invisible paw swiped at the softness of his belly, missing by mere inches and instead striking Dean across his leg. Dean swore as he stepped in front of him and burst into flame, wings unfurling from his back and licking fire trails as they grazed the walls of the small apartment. Castiel scrambled back beneath the table, looking on in horror while his furniture caught fire and Dean lunged into a snarling, solid force that had no substance. He was an avenging angel, all powerful and righteous with blows that thudded hard and sizzled against intangible flesh. It was unreal, a dream. Castiel was sure he’d bumped his head and fainted on the way to the door, but the smoke was acrid, choking him.

  
“Really, Dean, I thought you would have learned better by now,” the short, suited man in the doorway laughed, crossing his arms. He shimmered in the heat, wavering like a mirage over hot asphalt.

  
Heavy footsteps shook the floorboards, stalking toward Castiel, and he couldn’t tell from which direction they were coming from. Dean was still entangled with the invisible beast, and it was only when he felt the hot, putrid breath against his face that Castiel screamed. The table splintered and he cried out as a heavy body landed on top of him, hot and unyielding and _hot_. The air was thick with the scent of burning flesh and hair and smoke clouding his vision, and the strange man was still laughing while a heavy paw knocked Castiel away from an enraged Dean, who had been thrown over the table.

  
He saw the fabric of his shirt shred and felt the rubber of his tennis shoes sticking to the floor, ribcage bruised and aching where he had been hit. He watched Dean hurl balls of fire that exploded into giant, snarling, canine-like heads that shook and yelped, kicked as Dean turned and reached for him.

  
“Castiel, we’ve gotta go!” Dean bellowed, wincing as teeth clamped around his calf and dragged him back. He struggled to get free, clawing at the floorboards to regain his position near the frightened nurse.

  
“Don’t touch me!”

  
“We HAVE to go!”

  
Dean’s fingers curled around his ankle, and Castiel felt the world turn upside down. A leviathan of sensation crawled under his skin, scorching hot and screeching sound and wind that sucked the breath out of his lungs. Tree limbs, sand, a blue sky, dripping rainforest; all flickered in and out of his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the feeling of Dean’s hand clamped firmly around his leg, but it was burning him, and he blindly reached out with a silent cry to stop.

  
The world spun by in a maelstrom, and they were falling. Then they were fallen.

  
Hard rock splintered his vision and he whimpered, his hand stinging numb where it had landed against Dean’s shoulder. His body ached and his stomach roiled in his gut, and when Dean asked if he was okay, he promptly rolled over and emptied his dinner onto the craggy hillside.

*

“And you’re sure about this, Gabriel?”

  
“Yes, I’m sure! Christ, Lucifer, you act like I’m always lying to you.”

  
“But you usually are.”

  
Gabriel huffed indignantly.

  
“I’m not this time, okay?”

  
The shorter man had to quicken his steps to keep up, wiping hair out of his face as he hurried down the hall. His companion ambled along at an easy pace, hands slid into the pockets of his tailored slacks while sleek black oxfords quietly treaded the plush carpet beneath them. They made it to the last door on the left, emblazoned with a childish, handpainted sign that read ‘GABE’S ROOM. NO TRESPASSING.’

  
“You still have that?”

  
“Yeah. Shut up.”

  
“He was always your favorite.”

  
Lucifer waited quietly while Gabriel unlocked the door. He raised a brow as his brother paused to take a deep breath, reaching up to pat him on the shoulder after a moment.

  
“It’ll be okay, Gabriel. We’ll figure this out.”

  
His voice was gentle, soft in a way that always made Gabriel feel like he was still a child hiding behind his big brother’s legs when he was scared. He let out the breath he had been holding and pushed the door open, swallowing thickly when his eyes landed on the dark shadow of a man locked inside a gilded cage next to his desk. He’d told Lucifer the situation before they’d ever made it into the house, but Lucifer still startled in surprise as he looked upon the cage.

  
“The dealer said he was a phoenix, Luce. I was expecting feathers and scaly claws, but he’s, he’s…” Gabriel trailed off, shrugging. “I mean, not that I’m complaining about what he looks like, because he _is_ gorgeous--”

  
“Gabriel.”

  
“But slave trade isn’t my thing! Tall, dark and fuckable or not, he looks human and it’s squicking me out.”

  
The figure in the cage let out a long sigh, rolling onto his back with a groan. Gabriel tensed, taking a few hesitant steps forward. Lucifer followed closely, and they both crouched down in front of the bars to watch the strange man sleep.

  
“He’s hurt,” Lucifer quipped, nodding toward the long gashes rending the man’s shirt and chest open. Gabriel’s lips thinned.

  
“Damaged goods, I know. I almost didn’t take him, but I didn’t know what Crowley would do with him. He’s better off here, I think. At least he’s safe.”

  
His hand slowly maneuvered between the bars, pausing just above the man’s forehead before he let his fingers drag sweaty strands back and down, combing through his hair. The phoenix seemed soothed by it, his feverish body relaxing under the ministrations until he slept peacefully once more. Gabriel drew his hand back and set it into his lap, though Lucifer didn’t miss the way he cradled it protectively, like he had touched something sacred.

  
“Does he have a name?”

  
Gabriel nodded, looking up at his older brother.

  
“It’s Sam.”

 ****  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates for this story are probably going to be sporadic, but I'll do my best to get them done weekly. Thanks for reading!


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